Confessions of a Shop Boy
by kayellis
Summary: A series of one shots concerning the life and times of one Tom Marvolo Riddle.


A/N: I plan to write a series of five to ten one-shots concerning the life and times of Tom Marvolo Riddle. This is the first, an examination of Tom's worldview as influenced by the shop's customers while working at Borgin & Burkes, circa 1946. Requests and reviews welcome.

Special thanks to my beta for her valuable input.

~.o0o.~

Confessions of a Shop Boy  
1. Ways to Charm an Imbecile

And they are fools. The lot of them, discussing nothing but the weather and robe fashion trends. More money than brains seems to be the rule among the shop patrons. It's truly despicable. Who wasted magic on these creatures?

With a flourish, I sign my name in the ledger. Another day done. Another day of entertaining people who are about as bright as the store's dim lighting. They can only be described as imbeciles. As I cater to their whims by day, fashion myself as their Lord and Master by night, I make a list in my mind. The many ways to charm an imbecile.

My simplest choice might be the Imperius curse. How I wish this were possible in my day-to-day interactions. Not yet, I tell myself frequently. One day, when I have revealed my hand in a sweeping revolution of the wizarding world, imbeciles will tremble beneath my wand. For now though, I remain a plain shop boy. A more subtle approach is necessary.

I have been developing this methodology since I was a young boy at Wool's Orphanage in South London. Young, but certainly never naïve, I came to grasp that the world was filled with imbeciles, from those who ran the orphanage to those who expected me to beg them for an oh-so-coveted position in their home. When I learned of the world of wizards, we special, chosen users of magic, I thought perhaps it would be far from the banal existence of the muggle filth I endured the first eleven years of my life.

I should have figured it out, my probably magical parents both ostensibly dead, but I retained an uncharacteristic optimism. Arriving at Hogwarts, _my home!_, I quickly learned that I remained superior to all those around me. Even now, my superiority is self-evident. Imbeciles make themselves look even more foolish by believing my mendacious words.

Though I don't believe I've felt anything qualifying to the realm of normal human feeling in my life, I can exude empathy when called upon. This is the first technique to learn when charming an imbecile. Appear as if you care. Remember their given name; use it often. _Arcturus! Enchanting to see you again, and how may I assist you?_ _Thank you, Violetta, and have a wonderful afternoon. _This may not be something one can learn. Charisma, I believe, one either has, or doesn't. I am convinced that I, Lord Voldemort, do indeed possess this vital allure.

When it comes to this technique, sometimes it seems to be too much, but they lap it up regardless. Even more extreme is the second technique, though flirting is hardly suitable for everyone. Imbeciles simply adore when an attractive person shows interest in their mundane selves. An obvious example is Hepzibah Smith, an old galoot who lives alone and has more trinkets than a magpie. She collects shiny items to fill her empty life. She also revels in the attention I tend to lavish upon her when she enters the shop. I cater to her whims, offer her "exclusive" prices for being such a _valued_ customer. The fool has even invited me back to her home to explore her collection. One day I think I shall go.

A third technique is simple. Smile. Teeth, eyes, dimples, the whole nine yards. This ties into the empathy and caring bit. People are easily disarmed by a handsome visage. Whilst this may be a fabrication, all that matters is what people see on the outside. Most are so weak as to be completely rendered defenseless by a simple smile. I have much greater ambitions than winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, but as Hereward allegedly wrote, murder is as simple as a smile on the face and a wand in the back.

Next is tone of voice. A deep smooth voice relaxes the tense and encourages them to open up to you. Never stutter or sound nervous when negotiating a transaction. It damages credibility and does nothing to endear one to the patron. Nothing says you are boring me like the imbecile you are than a bored voice. Sound dynamic and engaged in order to charm a fool. This also makes one appear to be genuine in the given affectations. Being perceived as genuine is perhaps the most important rule in charming an imbecile. Without this, one has nothing.

Equally important is finding common ground. This is not too difficult as a shop boy, considering the type of patron in this particular shop is not diverse. Be in awe of their incredibly long line of purity. Take a leaf out of a house elf's book and kowtow. The more money and influence the sap believes themself to have the better. Make the patron in question feel more important and powerful than the Minister for Magic whilst they are in the shop. Be the shop boy poster boy in essence. After all, no one suspects a bookish shop boy of being a front for the greatest wizard of the times to aggregate pieces of his heritage.

Part of defining the experience of a foolish patron is paying them compliments. It sounds foolish in itself, but again, it will not be perceived as such. Even the bromidic is perfectly acceptable. _Dear Mr. Moon, I kept this artefact especially for you, as a serious collector. _Have an eye for detail. _And you! Mrs. Moon, are those robes by Toiles'? Yes they've only recently expanded from their outfit in Paris to a shop on Diagon Alley._

This leads into the final technique, possibly the very most useful of them all. Always participate in idle gossip, but reveal nothing. Achieve this by being the ultimate good listener and master of the secret. The weak-minded just love their chitchat. This is how I learn of the collections of the shop's patrons and beyond, simply by being a seeming good person to speak with. How else could I learn of pieces that were destined to be mine? That were part of my heritage? Treasures even, like the ring that now adorns my left hand.

Some days I lament my current lot. I rage beneath the smiling surface, while I crave to out myself as Lord Voldemort, the greatest sorcerer alive. I will one day be apotheosized, as I should, and the entire world will tremble beneath my wand.

I can think of only one who is certainly not convinced by my shop boy façade. The outside world may consider him the greatest wizard of our times, but I know better. I know magic he is too afraid to touch, too weak and too good. One day I will no longer spend my days charming the imbecilic while searching for pieces rightfully mine. One day they will revere the name – be afraid to even speak it! – for my greatness as Lord Voldemort.

~.o0o.~

_Special thanks to the WikiHow article "How to Be Charming" since I clearly have something to learn on this topic._


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